Reincarnated with the Country System-Chapter 196: The Unholy Chronicles
The first page crackled like dry leaves, revealing a pentagram sketched in what looked like dried blood.
Tzeriel, the Devouring Silence.
Va'Kesh, the Dreaming Maw.
Xhal-Turath, the Skinless Prophet.
Orzai, the Mother of Rot.
In'Therak, the Fractured Star.
The text began with a history etched in suffering. Millennia ago, the world trembled as five entities, neither gods nor demons, tore through the fabric of reality. They were hunger, madness, and rot given form. Entire civilizations vanished overnight. Forests petrified. Oceans boiled. The skies rained ash. The world was on the brink of annihilation, and no mortal hand could stay the tide of destruction.
Then came the angels—warriors of light who descended in a blaze of divine fire. Their war against the "Eldest Evils," as the book called them, scarred the planet. Mountains were flattened into deserts; continents splintered into jagged archipelagos. The angels fought with weapons forged from celestial steel and spells woven from the threads of creation itself. But even they could not destroy the Evils. Instead, they bound them in prisons crafted from the bones of fallen stars and the sacrifices of countless mortals.
Each prison was entrusted to a nation, a solemn duty passed down through generations.
In'Therak, the Fractured Star, was imprisoned within the Chest of Eternal, a relic of unimaginable power. At the time of its binding, the Ostra continent and its surrounding regions were under the control of the Alka Empire. Alka was the seventh most powerful nation of its era, a land of scholars and warriors who had fought valiantly against the Eldest Evils. The angels deemed them worthy of safeguarding the Chest of Eternal, a great honor that came with a terrible responsibility.
For thousands of years, the Alka Empire upheld its duty. The Chest was kept in the heart of their capital, a city of towering spires and golden domes, surrounded by wards and guarded by the empire's most elite warriors. But empires are not eternal. Three centuries ago, the Alka Empire fell to war, internal strife, and the ravages of time. The Chest of Eternal did not disappear, but its four keys were scattered, passed on to four different nations.
Latvia, a rising power hungry for dominance, sought to seize the other three keys, believing that control of the Chest would grant them unimaginable power. Their aggression sparked a war that engulfed the continent, but their ambitions were thwarted by the Bernard Empire.
The Aetherian Empire, currently the most powerful nation on the world, is a land of gleaming cities and towering statues of legendary heroes. Its people are the descendants of angels and mortals who fought in the great wars against the Eldest Evils. They live in a society built on heroism and divine favor, where temples line the streets and prayers to the heavens are a daily ritual.
But beneath this golden surface lies a deep secret—the seal of Va'Kesh, the Dreaming Maw.
Va'Kesh is imprisoned deep within the Sanctum of Eternity, a fortress hidden beneath the empire's capital. The Sanctum is a place of silence, where even the air feels heavy with dread. Va'Kesh is not a god of flesh and blood but a force of consumption. It feeds not on bodies but on meaning—stories, knowledge, identity. Those who fall into its dreams awaken as empty husks, devoid of purpose or memory. They wander the world, whispering only of hunger.
Beneath the sacred temple of the Ancient Holy Empire lies another prison, one that holds Xhal-Turath, the Skinless Prophet. The temple is a place of pilgrimage, where the faithful come to seek blessings and divine guidance. But few know the truth of what lies beneath.
Xhal-Turath is a god of prophecy, but its visions are not gifts—they are curses. It does not predict the future; it carves it into reality. Those who listen to its voice find their destinies etched into their flesh, their futures unchangeable and inevitable. The Skinless Prophet's chosen ones are marked by grotesque scars, their bodies twisted into living prophecies.
The Ancient Holy Empire has long sought to control Xhal-Turath's power, using its prophecies to guide their actions and maintain their dominance. But the line between control and corruption is thin, and the empire's leaders walk a dangerous path. Some say the Skinless Prophet is not truly imprisoned but biding its time, waiting for the moment to reveal its ultimate prophecy.
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The Elfian Union, a super-nation ruled by the elves, holds Orzai, the Mother of Rot, imprisoned beneath their World Tree. The World Tree is a symbol of life and growth, a colossal oak said to hold the sky aloft. Its roots delve deep into the earth, where Orzai festers in the darkness.
Orzai is a god of transformation, but her gifts are curses. She does not kill; she changes. Her touch twists flesh, causing it to grow, rot, and mutate. Her followers do not fear death, for they do not die—they become. Bones lengthen, limbs swell to impossible sizes, and voices melt into a cacophony of screams and whispers.
The final pages of the book were warped, as if soaked in seawater, but the words were still legible. They told of Tzeriel, the Devouring Silence, imprisoned by the Atlantic Sea Empire. Tzeriel's prison was a sunken citadel guarded by leviathans, ancient sea creatures bound to the empire by forgotten magic.
Tzeriel is a god of madness, but not the kind that drives men to violence. It is the madness of the void, the silence that consumes all thought and reason. Its followers do not worship; they simply exist, dancing in the ashes of reason and speaking a language that has no words. To look at Tzeriel is to understand nothing, and to understand nothing is to free oneself from reason.
The Atlantic Sea Empire believe that the leviathans will keep the Devouring Silence contained, but the sea is vast, and the leviathans are growing restless. Strange tides and unnatural storms plague the empire, and whispers of a "silent god" echo in the dreams of those who sail too far from shore.
